


What should have been

by Spectral_Mist, Twilight Fang (Asthenos)



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Regret, Reminiscing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21687490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectral_Mist/pseuds/Spectral_Mist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asthenos/pseuds/Twilight%20Fang
Summary: The Ghostbusters are preparing for Christmas Eve in their usual disorganized fashion, when they come across something that stirs up a lot of uncomfortable feelings for Peter and Egon.
Relationships: Egon Spengler/Peter Venkman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve got a couple of old, unfinished Peter/Egon stories remaining, but I thought that I would try and finish this one first seeing as how Christmas is just around the corner. :))) Happy Holidays! (◍•ڡ•◍)❤
> 
> **I have added my alternate user ID Asthenos to this fanfic while I debate over whether or not I will merge the two accounts**

“Oh boy! Oh boy! It’s my collection of Dam Things animal trolls!” There was a flurry of motion, which involved packing tape being ripped off of a partially sealed cardboard box, and then Ray was practically diving into it. He came up with an armful of bizarre looking creatures possessing pudgy noses, wrinkled skin, and tufts of neon colored hair.

“Say what, Ray?” Peter questioned in a bored monotone.

This was the third box that those two had opened over the past hour - the third _wrong_ box. Winston had grown tired of Ray’s extensive toy collection after the first box, and Peter’s old ribbons and trophies were not very interesting either. Nothing encouraged Peter to brag more than evidence of his life’s greatest achievements.

“Trolls, Peter!” Ray shoved his armful of creepy looking friends into Peter’s face, and was rewarded with a cry of disgust.

“Eww! Get those things away from me.”

“Aww, c’mon. That’s not very nice. How can you not think trolls are cute?”

From across the room, Egon took one look at the trolls and frowned. “Ray, would you be so kind as to return those to the box you found them in? I’d prefer not to encounter them on my way to bed tonight.”

“How many times do I have to apologize?” Ray asked in a whipped puppy tone. “I honestly forgot that I left that Gremlin on the floor.”

“Put them back in the box, homeboy,” Winston instructed when it looked like Ray was about to stuff two or three trolls down his shirt. For one thing, Winston didn’t want a repeat of what had happened last week when Egon returned from the shower - with his glasses all fogged up - and tripped over that large Gremlin action figure, which Ray had readied in a fighting pose in the pathway between their beds. Egon had fallen onto his backside, taken one look at the creature with big elephant-like ears, and yelled in fright. If Winston squinted, he could see the resemblance that Gremlin character had to the Boogieman. That’s just what Egon didn’t need, to find himself on the floor with a miniature Boogieman lookalike. For another thing, Winston thought those trolls were just plain ugly, and ugly things had no place in their bedroom.

“Fine,” Ray conceded glumly.

“And now it’s time to see what’s in box number four,” Peter announced in his best game show host’s voice.

Between the opening and resealing of the boxes, and the trips down memory lane, this was going to take forever. At the rate they were going at, they would never get to the right box before midnight. And if the clock struck midnight, indicating the end of Christmas Eve, before they finished decorating the Christmas tree, Winston was going to have a fit. Things were much more organized in the Zeddemore household, where people scrawled helpful reminders on boxes before taping them shut. Finding the Christmas ornaments was always a piece of cake due to the fact that Winston’s mother had the common sense to write ‘Christmas ornaments’ on the box. The Zeddemore family never put the tree up any later than the last week of November either. What was so difficult about freeing up a couple of hours to set up the Christmas tree?

“Who the hell’s job was it to label the boxes last time, anyhow?” Winston asked in annoyance.

“Um...” Peter sheepishly tiptoed off to the closet to get out another box.

“I believe that the last person tasked with labeling the boxes was Peter,” Egon helpfully pointed out.

“Isn’t it always?” Winston muttered under his breath.

Out came box number four. As soon as Peter dropped it onto the floor, the four of them crowded around it in a combination of hope and desperation. This one had to be it!

Peter expertly flipped the box cutter in his hand, showing off a bit, before slicing through the tape. “And here we have some beautiful, overstocked, Black Friday marked down, unbreakable Christmas ornaments.” He peeled back the box flaps to reveal a stack of photo albums covered in a layer of dust.

“Man, I don’t know what’s more annoying. The fact that you’ve gone and opened the wrong box - _again_ \- or that you didn’t seal it properly to begin with. Would you look at that dust!” Winston sat back on the floor and miserably shook his head.

“Hmm,” Egon murmured as he peered into the box. “These look vaguely familiar.”

“They should. These are our memories from college.”

Suddenly, Egon and Ray were leaning closer to the box, waiting for Peter to wipe off the dust and open the album. That just figured. Now Winston was going to be bombarded with old college memories that he hadn’t been a part of. While those three had been furthering their education with books, exams, and presentations - and in Egon’s case published articles and PhD’s - Winston had been training hard in the military. Sometimes, Winston found himself feeling envious of their scholarly backgrounds, but other times he just thought that they’d led cushy lives before banding together to found the Ghostbusters.

Having no choice but to feign interest, Winston moved closer to Peter’s left side. If anyone were to walk in on them now, they would probably die in a fit of laughter to see three grown men in their jammies - and one in a long nightshirt - sitting on the cold hardwood floor, anxiously browsing through a bunch of old photo albums. They were all gathered close to the open closet’s double doors, surrounded by boxes, old toys that time had forgotten, and a treasure trove’s worth of colorful ribbons, medals, and trophies that Peter had lined up along the far wall. All the better to remind them of his athletic prowess. Although Winston sometimes wondered why they had to listen to Mr. Macho complaining so much about running long distances, or climbing multiple flights of stairs, if he was in such great shape.

Over in the far corner of the room, away from the door and fire pole, stood a massive Christmas tree. It might have been impressive were it not for the fact that it looked like a tall barren triangle of greenery. There was not a single ornament on it. There weren’t any presents under it either. At least, not yet.

As it turned out, the first page of the photo album depicted Peter in all his Venkman glory. There was Peter with his group of jock buddies at some bowling alley, Peter with some redhead, Peter at a party looking as drunk as a skunk. The next page wasn’t much better. A few more photos had Peter posing indecently with a blond, followed by another with two brunettes, and then Peter with the Columbia Lions Football Team. Peter was proudly wearing his leather football jacket - black with white sleeves, with the team logo of a lion leaping through a football helmet - in several more photos. In between, there were some poorly taken photos of the campus itself, and then things got real interesting.

“Hey, isn’t that—?”

“Remember this, Egon?” Peter cut Winston off, pointing to the photo in question in obvious delight. “This was the first party I took you to.”

“How could I forget such a chaotic atmosphere?” Egon replied, but not without a twinge of nostalgia in his voice. “As I recall, you forbade me from drinking the punch for some reason.”

Winston studied the photo where Peter’s face was red and showing obvious signs of inebriation. Peter looked younger and wilder, with his hair in serious need of some trimming. Egon looked much younger as well, and skinnier, if the jacket hanging off of his shoulders was any indication. In the photo, Peter had his arm slung around Egon’s shoulders and was drunkenly hugging him for the camera. As for Egon, while he did look tragically awkward and out of place amongst all the jocks, there was a slight upturn to his lips that might have been the start of a grin.

“Egon, I didn’t know you were on the football team.” Winston stared at the football jacket Egon was wearing in the picture, and scratched at his head in bewilderment. Aside from being fit enough to chase down ghosts, Egon was anything but athletic. Even now, he was awfully slim, but back then, he had been downright scrawny. Who would want someone like that on their team?

“Egon wasn’t on the football team,” Ray said with a laugh. “That’s Peter’s jacket. See. It’s got the number 69 on the sleeve. That was Peter’s lucky number.”

“I’ll bet that was a real _lucky_ number,” Winston said sarcastically.

“Why would the number 69 be lucky?” Egon asked in complete innocence.

Ray looked across at Winston, who practically glared at Peter. Let the womanizer explain what the number meant to Egon. Winston wanted no part in discussing sexual positions with the three men he shared a bedroom with. Besides, they were wasting time on this photo album when they ought to be looking for the Christmas ornaments.

“It’s just some stupid joke. Right, Ray?” Peter looked flustered for a moment, before he quickly flipped ahead to the next page.

“Uh... sure. Because the configuration of the numbers is similar to—.” Ray was silenced by Peter, who reached over to sharply flick his ear. “Ow!”

“And this is that pizza place where we used to hang out.” Again, Peter was mainly addressing Egon, whom he had casually wrapped an arm around.

Ray stared at the photo in disappointment, probably as fed up with Winston with all the photos that Peter was hogging the spotlight in. But when Winston glanced at the photo, the investigative part of his brain clicked on. Two photos. Taken on two different days. Both with Egon wearing that loud football jacket. Peter’s football jacket. And, as Peter still had a habit of doing, his arm was pulling Egon tightly against him, as if he owned him. Winston had never been to college, but he had been on the high school baseball team. He knew what it meant when a girl was seen in one of the guys’ jerseys. But what did it mean if Egon was wearing Peter’s jacket? 

“Egon, m’man, what’s up with you and that jacket?” Winston just had to ask.

Before Egon could come up with an answer, Peter beat him to it. “Egon never knew how to dress for the weather. While everyone else was wearing sweatshirts and sweaters, Egon was going around in nicely ironed dress shirts - which were super thin. He was always getting cold at night.”

“The last time I checked, wearing decent clothes made from quality materials was not a crime,” Egon commented dryly. “However, that is not to say that I wasn’t appreciative whenever you loaned me your jacket,” he added, looking uncharacteristically flustered.

“Glad to hear that I was appreciated,” Peter said in a teasing voice. Then he was advancing through the photo album a bit quicker, most likely because there were several other shots in there with Egon wearing that incriminating jacket. He had probably realized that Winston and Ray would catch onto the recurring theme throughout the rest of his photo album and didn’t want to have to deal with it.

“Hey! That’s me!” Ray slapped his hand down on one of the pages, stopping Peter’s frantic page flipping.

Sure enough, there was Ray with his two best college friends, posing in front of the dormitory on Halloween. That year, Ray had apparently decided to roam around campus decked out as Count Dracula. Peter and Egon, however, were dressed as usual, although that jacket was nowhere to be seen.

The next few pages of the photo album had Ray scattered throughout, which pleased Ray immensely. He slowed down the progress through the album even more by giving a full background story on every picture. Through it all, Winston just sat there in boredom, repeatedly glancing at his watch.

“Peter, you skipped 2 or 3 pages.” Ray grabbed onto the photo album, only for Peter to firmly press down on it, preventing him from going back.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you _did_!”

“Ray, I don’t see what reason Peter would have for skipping pages,” Egon intervened with his usual calm, reasonable attitude.

Except that Peter had skipped a few pages, of that Winston was sure. And if Winston and Ray had seen Peter do it, Egon must have noticed it as well. After all, Egon was a lot closer to that book - and Peter - than either Winston or Ray were.

Winston could deal with Peter lying, because their unofficial leader was not only good at it, but he also did it quite frequently. Who left the toilet seat up in the washroom? It couldn’t have been Peter. Who burnt the bottom of the frying pan and then just left it sitting - unwashed - on the stove for days? Definitely not Peter. Who _accidentally_ overcharged one of their clients by adding one too many zeros to the invoice? Again, anyone but Peter. So Winston was pretty much used to Peter’s poor grasp of the concept of honesty. But Egon? Egon never lied. The physicist just didn’t have it in him to even tell a white lie. So why was he lying now? What secrets were the con artist’s son and the socially inept brainiac hiding?

Peter and Ray were so busy fighting over the photo album that neither of them took much notice of Winston, until he’d yanked the book out of their grasp and hastily gone back a few pages. He immediately exchanged a suggestive look with a very unhappy Ray.

“You guys went to that carnival without me?” Ray totally missed the point by focusing on having been left out, rather than noticing the intimate nature of the photos. Unlike the other photos, these ones had not been taken by a third party. Each and every one had been taken by Peter, who had done so by holding the camera at a distance with one hand. His arm was in practically every shot. And his other arm was securely wrapped around Egon, who was wearing that football jacket again. What really stunned Winston wasn’t so much the fact that Egon was actually leaning closer to Peter, instead of pulling away, but that the blond was smiling. It was a shy, carefully restrained smile, but it was a smile all the same.

There were plenty of photos from that carnival, and the only two people in each and every one of them were Peter and Egon. They hadn’t gone with friends, nor had they taken any photos of each other. Every single photo they had taken together. Egon looked like he was having the time of his life, and Peter had never looked more sincere. With the way Peter was clinging to Egon, he may as well have wrapped the physicist in a jacket that said ‘Property of Venkman’, instead of ‘Columbia Lions’.

Abruptly, and without saying so much as a word, Egon shook off Peter’s arm and stood up. He then padded out of the bedroom in his blue nightshirt and matching slippers, with his shoulders slightly slumped and his head down. Although Peter didn’t look up to see where Egon had disappeared to, he did cringe when he heard the door to the physicist’s lab shut. And that was even though Egon shut it very, very quietly.

Well, that just about totally screwed Christmas Eve. Winston debated over whether he should torture Peter to get the whole story out of him, or go after Egon to make sure he was okay. He didn’t have to think about it for long because Ray wasn’t fond of uncomfortable silences.

“Gee, Peter. Did I do that?” Ray asked in a guilty tone.

For a moment, Peter didn’t say anything. He just sat there eyeing the photo where he and Egon were sitting on a bench, sharing what looked like a very large bag of caramel popcorn. “Did you do what?” He finally asked without emotion.

“Did I break you and Egon up?”

“Huh?”

“You know, because I was the third wheel. I must’ve broken you guys up.” Ray hung his head in shame.

“Egon and I were never _together_ ,” Peter corrected Ray. “I mean, we could’ve been... but we weren’t.”

“What happened?” Winston asked, feeling more sympathetic now, and less concerned about the Christmas tree. The tree could wait. His friends were much more important than a boxful of ornaments.

Sighing over-dramatically, Peter tore his gaze away from the photo album and drew his knees up to his chest in a defensive posture. “My stupid ego happened, that’s what.” Before Winston could ask him to explain that comment, Peter did so of his own volition. “All of my buddies thought that me hanging around Egon was really funny. They couldn’t believe that I was doing anything more with Egon other than using him for his brains. Back then, I normally wouldn’t have befriended someone nerdy like Egon, but I couldn’t help myself. I mean, sure, I was attracted to his brains, and yes, I did manipulate him into sharing his notes with me on more than one occasion, but there was more to him than that. He was the smartest person I’d ever met, but he had no idea how to communicate with the rest of us humans. He was shy, awkward, had a screwed up fashion sense, and getting him to smile was like having your teeth extracted - without any anesthetic - but, to me, he was irresistibly cute. And I’m not talking about fuzzy kittens and teddy bear cute. I’m talking about the kind of cute that grabs your attention and won’t let go. Like suddenly all you can focus on is him because that’s all that matters. And, besides that, he was really nice to look at, even back then.”

Not really knowing how to handle Peter’s peculiar description of Egon, Winston and Ray just sat there attentively. This was the first they were hearing of Peter’s interest in Egon, and neither of them knew how to react just yet.

“At first it was difficult to talk to him. He had two programmed reactions to any attempt at communication. The first was freezing in abject horror, like he couldn’t believe that anyone would want to talk to him. The second was scientifically analyzing and dissecting everything that was said to him in that neutral tone of his. Well, I got fed up after the first week of listening to his multi-syllabic dialogue and began to tease him. Not in a mean way. Just to put him off balance. But, strangely enough, he caught on real fast and began to give it back as good as he got. Egon may be all scholarly, but you guys know the verbal sparring he’s capable of when he’s in the mood. It was at that point that I found myself hooked on him. And, a little later, when he actually started to smile at me, I figured I was in love.”

“So you loved him, and he loved you,” Winston said patiently. He didn’t need to ask if Peter’s feelings had been reciprocated because Egon’s reaction to the photos said it all. “How did you manage to screw it up?”

Peter hunched over his knees further and began to speak in a lower voice, as if afraid that Egon might overhear him. “Egon and I had gone to a few movies together, and then there was that carnival, but I was always afraid of taking that next big step. I’ve never asked him if he considered those outings to be dates, but to me they kind of were. Maybe they were a bit too tame for what I was used to... I mean, we didn’t hold hands or anything - mainly because Egon was so shy - but the chemistry between us was intense. What we had together went way beyond the realm of friendship. However, one day, a couple of my teammates cornered me and asked what was up with me and ‘that nerd’. I’d invited Egon to one party too many and, although Egon probably thought he was doing a bang up job of blending in, he had become a sort of social pariah amongst the rest of the cool crowd. He didn’t drink or smoke, he wouldn’t dance with any of the girls, and he was oblivious to social cues. So my _buddies_ ,” Peter said the word with a good dose of anger, “threatened to hurt Egon if I didn’t get rid of him, and they also threatened to ruin my reputation by spreading rumors of us being together.”

“So you panicked and got rid of Egon,” Ray said sadly.

“Yeah, I panicked, but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of Egon. So, instead, I started hooking up with a girl on the cheerleading team, right after I’d taken Egon to that carnival. It was pretty easy to blow Egon off because we’d never been clear on whether we were dating or not. And when Egon saw me with that girl... I’ve broken a lot of hearts in my time, but none of them hurt anywhere near as much as doing that to Egon did.” Peter lowered his head in self-disgust and remorse.

“So why didn’t you try to fix things between the two of you?” Winston asked. He felt sorry for Peter for ruining the good thing that he’d obviously had with Egon, but he also felt terrible for the rough way that Egon had been unceremoniously cast aside. “You’ve had plenty of time to feel sorry for yourself and regret what you’ve done. Don’t tell me that you’re using Ray and myself as an excuse not to make the effort.”

“I know you guys are more open-minded than that, but how was I to know that Egon was still interested? I had no idea that he was still hurting from that crap I pulled up until a few minutes ago.” Peter buried his face in his hands and groaned. “What the hell am I going to do?”

“Maybe I should talk to Egon...,” Ray meekly suggested.

“That won’t solve anything.” Winston fixed Peter with his sternest expression, not caring whether the brunette was actually looking at him or not. “Here’s an easy question for you, Pete. Do you want to leave things as they are between you and Egon, or do you want a second chance at whatever the two of you had before?”

“I’d _kill_ to have a second chance with him,” Peter confessed plaintively.

“Then get off your ass and go and tell _him_ that.”

While Winston thought that he’d seen Peter scared before, nothing seemed to frighten the psychologist more than the thought of confronting Egon. Winston and Ray watched as Peter picked himself up off of the floor, self-consciously brushed at his rust-colored pajama bottoms, and strode purposefully towards the lab.

Once Peter was out of sight, Ray cast his gaze back at the depressing looking tree. “Should we wait for them to come back?”

“Hell, no! We’re gonna find that box with the ornaments and have the tree decorated before the clock strikes midnight, or so help me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Peter could always tell when Egon was upset. If Peter wasn’t able to work with facial expressions, gestures, or tone of voice, all he needed to do was try and figure out what the blond was working on to analyze his mental state. Double checking safety features on the equipment implied that Egon was worried about something. Experimenting with hazardous chemicals meant that Egon was feeling cranky or irritated. But designing unidentifiable machinery was a sure indication of a nuclear meltdown. Repressed emotions beware.

“You have every right to be angry with me. To hate me even,” Peter blurted out to Egon’s turned back. The physicist was assembling what looked like a device capable of creating high levels of radiation. At least that’s what Peter’s imagination told him the big accordion-shaped contraption was.“You should have punched me for what I did to you. Or at least yelled at me. Why didn’t you yell at me?” Anger, Peter could deal with. But not silence or indifference. Those were non-reactions that could not be counteracted.

“Punching anything - whether it be a living creature or an inanimate object - is an action that I am unfamiliar with. And yelling serves no purpose..., although I am uncertain what it is that you are referring to,” Egon replied in a completely uninterested tone as he went about his work.

“C’mon, Egon! Don’t give me that crap! You know exactly what I’m referring to. We had a great time - an _amazing_ time - together at that carnival. And then I had to go and ruin it by sleeping with that redhead.”

“Why would I have been affected by whom you chose to take to your bed?” Egon asked in forced confusion. His voice was beginning to show signs of stress, and that stress caused him to screw up the alignment of the power cells - twice. “If I am not mistaken, our relationship was not one of romance, but one of convenience.”

“How can you say that?” Peter edged closer in protest. “I never used you or treated you unkindly. I went out of my way to make you feel welcome. But taking you out for dessert in the middle of the night and having you wear my jacket had nothing to do with that. That was something else. If spending the whole day together at a carnival, without an inch of space between us, wasn’t romantic, then I don’t know what is.”

“Why did you even bother?!” Egon dropped what he was working on to whirl around and face Peter. The fury in his tone was alien enough, but the bright shine of unshed tears in his eyes was even worse. “If you had intended to routinely share your bed with random women every day from that day forward, why did you lead me to believe that you had even the faintest interest in me?”

“Every day, Egon? That’s exaggerating a little, don’t you think?” Peter meekly said. Then, recovering his nerve, he advanced on Egon further, and steadied his voice. “I’ve regretted what I did to you every single day since. I acted like a complete asshole, partially to protect you from harm, but mainly to protect my reputation. I’ve wanted to apologize - like a million times - over the years, but I’ve been too big of a coward to actually do it. And, as for my interest in you... It was anything but faint. I thought that I’d lost any chance that I may have had with you, but now I discover that you still have feelings for me...”

“ _Still have feelings for you?_! You’re nothing but a smug, arrogant...” Egon turned away again, but not before Peter witnessed the tears filling those sad sky-blue eyes. “You should have just shredded those photos...” Egon’s voice broke as he said that, and he began to tremble.

“I could never do that, Egon,” Peter said gently. “I never want to forget the time we spent together.” He came up behind Egon, took him by the shoulders, and forced him to turn around again. There were now tears tracking down the blond’s sharp cheekbones, and those full lips were quivering with the effort of suppressing any and all sounds of anguish. How could he have hurt this beautiful man? How could he have given up such a wonderful partner? “Y’know, Egon, you’re beautiful even when you’re crying.” He watched Egon react to being called beautiful, first by blushing a flattering shade of pink, and then by weeping harder. “I’m sorry for what I did in the past, and I promise never to repeat it in the future.” Peter pulled an unresisting Egon into his arms, rubbing up and down the blond’s back to pacify his sorrow and to reassure him. He continued to hold Egon as the blond was overwhelmed by the weight of years of repressed feelings. But listening to Egon sob just about broke Peter’s heart. “I know that I’ve wasted a lot of time... and we can never go back to the way things were... but we can start over again.”

“Why would we want to do that?” Egon tearfully asked.

“Because you want to be with me just as badly as I want to be with you.” Then, Peter forced himself to say the words that he had been longing to say ever since that innocent date at the carnival. “I love you, Egon. I’ve loved you ever since that day we spent in the park. Do you remember that day?” Peter asked as he softly pressed a kiss to Egon’s tear-streaked cheek.

At first, Egon stiffened at the unfamiliar physical gesture. But he allowed Peter to do it again, before pressing closer into Peter’s embrace. “Yes... I do,” Egon sniffed. Hearing Peter’s declaration of love put an abrupt end to Egon’s weeping, although not before his tears had soaked through Peter’s pajama shirt.

“We were having such a great time relaxing,” Peter reminisced while beginning to stroke Egon’s hair. Just as he’d expected, Egon had thick soft hair, and it was fun to wrap the wavy tail end of it around his finger. And it felt good to squeeze Egon tight against his chest, his other hand absently rubbing the fabric of that nightshirt. The physicist had a thing for blue nightshirts, and he had several in similar hues. But this one was the warm winter version - one-hundred percent fleece. Peter thought that he wouldn’t mind snuggling up behind Egon in that fleece nightshirt.

“We weren’t supposed to be relaxing,” Egon pointed out in a bit of a calmer voice.

“Yeah, I know. You were supposed to be tutoring me in math, which I totally sucked at. But it was a warm afternoon, and we’d just finished the best lunch that the dining hall had to offer...”

“They didn’t offer anything. You filled three Tupperware containers with bread, fried chicken, Greek salad, pasta, fruits, and stir fried vegetables the last time you ate there. It’s a wonder you didn’t get caught,” Egon stated in sheer amazement.

“Egon, baby, you have one hell of a good memory!” Peter backed off a bit to kiss the tip of Egon’s nose as a reward. “And, as I recall, you really enjoyed those strawberries. That was perhaps one of the rare times that I’ve seen you so relaxed. But then...” He grinned as he recalled what had happened next.

“I located a grouping of morchella growing behind our picnic spot,” Egon said with a warm fondness.

“Yeah, you found _mushrooms_.” Peter felt Egon’s arms hugging him tighter and sighed. Creating a pleasant atmosphere with Egon had always been easy. It just seemed to come natural to them. Peter swore to himself that he would never sacrifice the love that he shared with Egon ever again. “And what did you do for the rest of the afternoon?” He asked in a lightly teasing tone, his finger twirling Egon’s hair into a springy curl.

“I vaguely recall giving you a lecture on eukaryotic organisms... specifically the kingdom, fungi.”

“Vaguely, my ass,” Peter scoffed. “You gave me enough unsolicited info on the topic that my brain started to make mushroom soup to cope.” When Egon made a soft sound that might have been a stifled laugh, Peter’s heart began to beat faster. To distract himself, he glanced over at the far wall to visually inspect Egon’s ever-growing mushroom collection. There were so many different shapes, colors, and sizes. It was a peculiar hobby, but it just seemed perfectly suitable for an introvert like Egon. “Do you still have your morchella?”

“They’re on the bottom shelf, second to the right. They’re thriving in their current environment.” Egon sounded so incredibly proud of his mushroom family that Peter couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m sure they’re one big happy family.” Then, after a brief pause, Peter asked the question that he was dying to hear the answer to. “So, Egon, when did you first realize that you were madly in love with the devilishly handsome Doctor Venkman?” For a few moments, Egon said nothing, but Peter knew him well enough to know that he was probably blushing with embarrassment and having difficulty expressing himself. So he didn’t take offence to the rather lengthy silence.

“I fell in love with you the first time you loaned me your jacket,” Egon confessed. “It was cold in the library, especially at night, but I didn’t have the sufficient funds to invest in a sweater. I thought that you would have chosen to give your jacket to one of your severely underdressed female friends before you considered giving it to me. But, that night, you got up and left your group of popular friends just to make sure that I didn’t catch a cold.”

“What can I say? It looked much better on you than it did on anyone else. Besides, I only went to the library to study when I knew you were going to be there.”

“And you would purposely leave candy bars in the pockets...”

Upon hearing that, Peter chuckled. “I knew that you couldn’t resist sweets. And I couldn’t have you going hungry while you were studying like an insane sleep-deprived maniac.” Pulling back a bit, but keeping his arms wrapped firmly around the slender blond, Peter gazed into those glistening blue eyes. “Y’know, when couples make up, they usually kiss.” Not waiting for Egon to become too nervous about what was surely to be his first kiss, Peter leaned in closer to kiss him. But Peter was apparently feeling a little nervous himself, because he miscalculated the angle and ended up bumping the side of his face into Egon’s glasses. “Whoops, sorry.” He took hold of the glasses by the arms, carefully removed them, and then folded them, before stuffing them into the pocket of his pajama pants. That minor setback was enough to leave Egon trembling anxiously, his face quite flushed, and his eyes looking unfocused. “Just close your eyes and relax. I promise I won’t bite you.”

At first, Egon looked tremendously self-conscious and uncertain. “But... I won’t be able to see you,” he weakly protested.

“Kissing isn’t about seeing. It’s about feeling.” Peter waited until Egon reluctantly closed his eyes before he leaned closer again. He cupped Egon’s cheek to hold him still, and moved in to lightly graze his lips over that sensual mouth. He kept the contact brief, checking Egon’s response before continuing. The blond was now breathing a lot quicker, and his fingers were digging into Peter’s shoulder blades. Peter tentatively brushed their lips together again and kissed Egon softly. The third kiss was a lot firmer, and a little cheekier, as Peter slid the tip of his tongue along Egon’s lower lip. That was all it took to elicit a whimper out of Egon, which caused Peter to possessively crush the blond in his embrace. Then he was sealing his mouth over Egon’s and sliding his tongue between the blond’s full lips. Egon made a soft sound of surprise, which quickly turned into a deep moan as their tongues met. Like everything else about Egon, the kiss was endearingly awkward, with Peter trying to coax the blond into responding by gently licking at him. Eventually, after Peter nudged Egon’s tongue a few times, he felt the blond begin to return the kiss. Their tongues tangled together in Egon’s mouth while Peter reached up to caress Egon’s face. The blond looked so sweet caught up in the kiss, with his fair eyelashes fluttering over his cheekbones, and his expression one of pure euphoria.

They gradually parted to catch their breath. Peter knew he was probably grinning like a sly fox but couldn’t help himself. He would forever cherish their first kiss together. And he definitely didn’t mind the captivated look on Egon’s beautiful face.

“Did you like that?” Peter asked, needing to clear his throat to get his voice working again. If Peter had been so affected by the kiss, he could only imagine how Egon felt about it. When those clear blue eyes opened again to gaze at him with adoration, he knew that he didn’t really need to hear the answer to that question. Thinking that Egon would like to have his eyesight back, Peter stuffed his hand into his pajama pocket to retrieve the red rimmed eyeglasses. But Egon stopped him by initiating another kiss that stole his breath away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter might take a bit longer since it needs to be finished before I can get around to editing it.


	3. Chapter 3

As far back as Egon could remember, he had never been comfortable with expressing his emotions. Any outwardly display of excitement, disappointment, or sadness - basically any emotion that his father deemed unworthy of a scientist-in-the making - had been met with disapproval and oftentimes punishment. The senior Dr. Spengler’s version of discipline had not corresponded to what was socially acceptable amongst Egon’s peers. While the other children had their toys and candy taken away for disrespecting their elders or damaging public property, Egon was chastised for appearing too affected when he was excluded from fun activities like parties and games. Just the slightest sniffle from Egon would get him the lecture of a lifetime on how feelings were irrelevant and stunted growth. Tears would be met with shame and the complete removal of all stimuli. Until Egon smartened up and behaved like the mature child prodigy that he was expected to be, none of his books or educational games would be returned to him.

Perhaps the most difficult time of the year for Egon had been Christmas. He secretly loved hearing the stories of Santa and reindeers, even though he had long disproved the existence of both. And seeing his mother busying herself around the house with the Christmas tree and other decorations had brought him immense joy. But his father never missed the opportunity to ruin Egon’s enjoyment of the day of the year most loved by all children.

“ _Did you by any chance confirm the age specifications on this toy before you purchased it?_ ” Egon heard his father ask his mother late one Christmas Eve.

Being an insatiably curious child, Egon had already peeked in his parents’ closet, identifying all of the presents based on their general shape and weight. He had also factored in his mother’s budget, thereby coming to the conclusion that the toy in question was an action figure from his favorite cartoon. Of course, Egon’s father knew nothing of Egon’s favorite cartoon because it always came on before the elder Spengler arrived home from work. Egon’s mother always pretended not to know what Egon was watching up in his bedroom, so that she wouldn’t have to lie if her husband asked her anything about it. But she was familiar enough with the characters of Thundercats to have picked up Lion-O for Egon’s Christmas present. Egon was quite fond of cats, but his interest in the leader of the Thundercats had run a bit deeper than pure favoritism. Not that he understood his fascination with the perfect specimen of outdated masculinity at the time.

“ _All the boys in his class are collecting these now_ ,” Egon’s mother had replied in an exasperated voice, like she was anticipating what her husband would say next. “ _And the boys two grades above_ ,” she added as a defence.

“ _All those boys are intellectually inferior to our son, Madelyn. I won’t have Egon playing with the male equivalent of Barbie dolls. You will take this foolish toy back to wherever you got it and request a full refund.”_

“ _But the stores will be closing soon and Christmas is tomorrow. What will we give him instead_?” Mrs. Spengler had asked in a panic. “ _We can’t just give him these textbooks that you wrapped.”_

“ _I will give him some math equations to solve. That should keep him busy for the duration of Christmas and put an end to this foolish need for childish toys.”_

If the elder Spengler had witnessed Egon’s disgraceful reaction to what was to become of his Christmas present, he would have told Egon what a disappointment he was turning out to be. That Christmas, and every Christmas after it, Egon had spent in his bedroom, denying that he craved anything other than a new fungi sample to study.

“Hey, Egon, are you okay?”

Egon blinked back the tears that were forming in his eyes before responding to Ray’s question. “I’m fine, Ray,” he said with as little emotion as possible. But he couldn’t master his expression, feeling himself reacting to the Christmas wonderland that Ray and Winston had put together in his absence.

Somehow, the two men who were most at home with machinery and car parts had managed to convert the entire bedroom space into something foreign and magical. The tree was practically bursting with ornaments and shimmering with tinsel, only to be outdone by the colorful LED lights that were flashing in a sort of morose code. More lights were taped around the bedroom window and along the walls near the ceiling. On each individual nightstand stood a jolly stuffed snowman - no doubt from Ray’s private toy collection - and below that hung a stocking that was filled to the brim with sweets. Under the tree were presents wrapped with festive paper and bows, and four sleeping bags with pillows. Beside each pillow was a mug of hot cocoa and a plateful of Christmas sugar cookies.

“I know exactly how you feel.” Peter pulled Egon against him, sounding just as choked up as Egon felt. Christmas was just as painful for Peter as it was for Egon but for different reasons.The senior Venkman had neglected Peter during the holidays, whereas Egon’s father had prevented him from enjoying them.

“I was gonna ask if you two were cool with each other now, but...” Winston gestured at the way Peter was latching onto Egon and grinned. “I guess we should’ve put your sleeping bags under the mistletoe.”

“Sleeping bag - singular,” Peter corrected Winston, squeezing Egon in a possessive embrace. “I’m not letting my Christmas present out of my sight.”

Being referred to as Peter’s Christmas present made Egon feel warm and loved inside. It was quite an overwhelming feeling - one that he was not accustomed to. Although unfamiliar, Egon knew that he was going to enjoy the attention that Peter was giving him. He used to feel similarly awkward when the others started to include him in their special events, but he had grown to like the familial unit he was now a part of.

“Aww, you guys are adorable together,” Ray gushed. “Group hug!” Before Egon or Peter could escape, Ray was throwing his arms around them like an eager hobbyist collecting wild butterflies with a massive net. “Isn’t this great, Winston?”

“Sure, homeboy. I couldn’t take anymore of that angst these two were wallowing in.” Winston joined the group hug, clapping Peter on the shoulder and flattening Egon’s hair with the palm of his hand. “Now let’s get down to the toast while we still have some Christmas Eve remaining.”

Ray rushed over to claim his sleeping bag, which just so happened to have suspicious lumps inside it. No doubt there were trolls lurking within, just waiting to be played with. Winston was next to flop down on top of his sleeping bag. Identifying Winston’s camping gear was always easy because he tended to go with either a baseball or space theme. The last two sleeping bags were reserved for Egon and Peter. Neither Ghostbuster had ever been camping, so Ray had arbitrarily picked up two dull red sleeping bags for them during an off-season sale.

Peter chose a sleeping bag at random and pulled Egon down to sit back against him. Before wrapping his arms securely around Egon, he pulled the spare sleeping bag over Egon’s legs.“Must be kind of drafty for you in here,” Peter said with an impish laugh. “You’re the only one wearing a dress.”

“It’s a nightshirt, Peter, as you are well aware.”

“And what have you got on underneath this nightshirt?” Peter slid his hand up Egon’s bare leg, stopping just below his knee.

Egon felt his face redden and couldn’t think of anything to say. He wasn’t sure if Peter wanted him to play along with their usual back and forth of sarcasm and wits, or if his new boyfriend was flirting with him. What he did know was that Peter’s hand was warm and strong, and the way Peter was touching him was triggering foreign sensations inside of him. Oddly enough, not only did he not mind what Peter was doing, but he found himself hoping for more of that physical contact.

“Hey!” Winston hastily cleared his throat. “We may be okay with you two being together, but we’re not okay with you messing around while we’re in the same room.”

“We’re not messing around,” Peter protested with exaggerated innocence. He released Egon’s leg and wrapped both arms around Egon’s chest instead. “How about we get to that toast?”

“The red mug is yours, Egon,” Winston said a split second before Egon accidentally picked up one of the green ones.

Taking that to mean the other mugs of cocoa were laced with something alcoholic, Egon handed Peter the green mug and then took the red one for himself. Sure enough, whatever was in the green mug smelled a bit on the spicy side, not that Egon actually knew what alcohol tasted like. He could only judge it based on the fumes it was giving off. And Peter’s mug smelled pretty potent, which meant that Winston had most likely opened up that new bottle of brandy they’d received from a particularly satisfied customer a few days ago. It never ceased to amaze Egon how generous people could be around the holiday season, although he preferred that generosity to take the form of chocolate and not hard liquor.

Raising his mug exuberantly, Ray was the first to propose a toast. “To my bestest friends falling in love on Christmas Eve!”

“Well, actually, it was more of an early autumn afternoon five years ago,” Peter commented as he raised his mug in front of Egon.

“I’ll toast to that!” Winston looked expectantly at Egon, who was never very good with saying anything normal during these sorts of occasions.

“I’d like to propose a toast to...” Egon paused when Peter sighed at his overly formal speech pattern.

“Easy on the stiffness, Egon,” Peter gently warned.

“This Christmas will undoubtedly be the happiest Christmas that I have ever celebrated... because of Peter,” Egon said after pondering how to put his feelings into words. He sat there, leaning back against Peter and shyly keeping his gaze on the Christmas presents. He slowly began to feel foolish, worrying that the others would laugh at him or tell him that his words were insufficient.

“That’s gotta be the most heartfelt thing I’ve ever heard you say.” Peter squeezed Egon tighter and kissed his cheek. “Not that I don’t love you guys,” he addressed Winston and Ray, “but I love Egon more than anything in the world. This Christmas is going to be _the best_ \- ever!”

“You both know that neither of you actually toasted to anything, right?” Winston asked with a bemused expression on his face. “I guess I’ll have to do the honors then. Here’s to good friends, good health, and plenty of love and happiness to go around.”

After clinking their mugs together, Egon took a long sip of his hot cocoa and sighed. He was blissfully happy and warm in Peter’s embrace, and the cocoa was delicious with just the right amount of marshmallows in it. He could hear Peter gulping down his own hot cocoa and making pleased sounds that Egon associated with someone who was getting a buzz off of an alcoholic beverage. Being this intimate with Peter was entirely new to Egon, but sharing a Christmas Eve with him was not.

Egon remembered quite vividly his first Christmas Eve on campus. It would have been several months before that gourmet picnic with Peter, and a few weeks before Peter had loaned Egon that football jacket for the first time. Egon’s parents had formerly divorced the previous summer after years of escalating discontent, clashing parenting techniques, and Mrs. Spengler’s desire for more freedom. That freedom had led Egon’s mother on a solo journey through much of Europe. On the morning of Christmas Eve, Egon received a postcard from a remote location in Italy, where his mother claimed to be enjoying the hospitality of a small vineyard owner. As far as his mother was concerned, she would be spending both Christmas and the New Year sampling wine and feasting on all the Italians had to offer. As a child, Egon had rarely witnessed his mother drinking because his father found it a vulgar hobby. But now that she no longer had to conform to Mr. Spengler’s rigid ideals, Egon’s mother was doing as she damn well pleased.

While Egon had no problem with his mother expressing her free will, he wasn’t too keen on spending Christmas alone. Not only was his father opposed to Christmas and the holidays, but he also wanted nothing to do with family or the turkey dinner either. And he certainly wanted nothing to do with Egon - not after he had discovered that his renegade son was lingering in college another year or so to pick up an additional degree in parapsychology.

“ _What ludicrous crap!_ ” Mr. Spengler had announced upon discovering the letter inviting Egon to a luncheon organized by Raymond Stantz. Egon’s father rarely swore but when he did it meant trouble. “ _Mark my words, boy, if you continue to disgrace this family with your supernatural nonsense, I will be forced to disown you.”_

At the time, Egon had assumed that his father was simply exaggerating due to his reaction to Ray’s use of a ghost-shaped invitation card. Anything not formally typed up on the proper letterhead and folded into three precise sections before being inserted into a suitably sized envelope usually got a similar reaction. “ _Severing family ties over your inability to believe in the paranormal is a bit extreme, Father,_ ” Egon had responded in a reasonable tone. “ _Regrettably, I intend to remain at Columbia until I have received my PhD in parapsychology.”_

 _“I should have had you institutionalized the first time you came into our bedroom crying about the Boogieman hiding in your close_ t,” Mr. Spengler had retaliated in a raised voice.

Time had stood still for Egon after that callous outburst. He barely remembered the lump forming in his throat that made swallowing or speaking up difficult. In all the years that Egon spent victimized by that awful monster in his closet, neither of his parents had ever accused him of being mentally incompetent. Not believing him and implying that he himself had invented the creature were two entirely different things.

Perhaps if Egon had said something - anything - he could have prevented his mother from verbally lashing out at his father. That in turn could have avoided a lot of long tolerated grievances from being dragged to the surface. Sadly, Mr. and Mrs. Spengler’s last argument as a married couple had been over Egon. Although Egon loved his mother dearly and appreciated the tenacity with which she had defended him, he regretted that it had cost her her husband.

Afterwards, Mrs. Spengler had sat down with Egon and informed him in quite a rational tone that her marriage was fundamentally broken. She still loved Mr. Spengler but she just couldn’t tolerate being married to him anymore. Plus, she would remain angry with him until he apologized to Egon for saying those awful things. Only... he never did. Following the divorce, Egon’s father organized his belongings and left the house in a deathly silent mood. Neither Egon nor his mother had heard from him since, although they occasionally got updates from Uncle Cyrus that claimed he had relocated to Arizona for a research project.

Expecting to be alone that Christmas Eve, Egon hadn’t bothered to get dressed or go outside. He was in bed reading a fascinating encyclopaedia on phantasmic presences, vaporous apparitions and poltergeists entitled Tobin’s Spirit Guide. The wealth of information in the book was incredible - completely unprecedented in terms of the level of detail that it revealed on every paranormal entity known to man.

“Merry Christmas!” The door to Egon’s dorm room suddenly flew inwards and in stumbled Peter Venkman.

Egon nearly had an anxiety attack over that unexpected - as well as abrupt and uninvited - entrance. “Peter! What are you doing?” Egon was now sitting rigidly with his back against the headboard and the blankets pulled up to his chin. Hadn’t he locked the door?

“I’m bringing you some Christmas cheer,” Peter declared as he began to pull fraying tinsel out of one of the plastic bags he was carrying. He randomly threw the ropes of tinsel around the room, covering Egon’s bookshelf, surrounding the samples of fungi, and practically littering the floor. Next, out came miniature snow globes, tiny Santas, and a bunch of reindeer - some of which were missing legs.

“Christmas isn’t until tomorrow,” Egon pointed out, watching his friend’s drunken decorating techniques with keen interest.

“Christmas? Bah humbug!” Peter made a sour face and tipped one of the mini Santas into the mug of hot cocoa that Egon had left sitting on the small round table by the bed. Then, like a kite that had lost the wind’s support, Peter slumped down onto the bed beside Egon.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Peter, but didn’t you come here to enthusiastically decorate my room with what appears to be discounted Christmas decorations?”

“Yeah, so?” Peter began to eye Egon and the way he was hiding underneath the blankets.

“I must confess that your contradicting words and actions have left me confused.”

“What’s so confusing about it?” Peter cozied up closer to Egon while continuing to peer at him with some amusement. “I hate Christmas. That’s all you need to know.”

“Then why—?”

Before Egon could finish his question, Peter was already answering it. “Because you’re all alone. It doesn’t take a genius to guess that you must hate Christmas, too.”

“I don’t _hate_ Christmas. Singing Christmas carols and watching the same animated Christmas specials every year just seems like an unproductive way to spend one’s time. And the lines that are created in the department stores after Christmas - comprised solely of discontent Christmas present recipients - are most inconvenient.”

“Say, Egon, what have you got on under the blankets?” Peter smirked at Egon and tried to pry the blankets away. “You’re not naked in there, are you?”

“Don’t be absurd!” Egon pulled back on the blankets, worried that Peter would see what he was wearing and make fun of him.

“Are you ticklish?”

“No.” Egon gave Peter a very stern look, warning him not to try it.

“That’s what you say now, but you’ll be singing a different tune once I’m done with you.” Now grinning like a mischievous imp, Peter launched himself at Egon. The second Egon squirmed away with both arms shielding his ribs, Peter yanked down the blankets to reveal Egon’s long blue nightshirt. “Huh... I gotta admit that you have some strange taste in clothing,” Peter said after a brief moment of embarrassing silence. “But this is kind of cute.”

Egon’s reaction to that was to blush and make a desperate grab for the blankets again. But before he could get a hold of them, Peter was kicking off his shoes and shrugging out of his jacket, and then climbing in beside him. Peter pulled the blankets up over them both and leaned back against the headboard in defeat.

“My old man just broke his promise - again,” Peter blurted out as he rubbed at his eyes. In such close proximity, Egon could smell the alcohol on his breath and the hairspray he had saturated his dark brown hair with. The psychology major had no doubt been wandering around campus, imbibing vast quantities of whatever liquor he’d been able to get his hands on to drown his sorrows.

“What promise was that?” Egon asked curiously.

“Same old BS he pulls every year. He makes plans to spend Christmas together and then bails on me at the last minute.”

“Did he give a reason?”

“Oh, yeah. Get this. He’s selling underwater property to vacationers in Florida.”

Upon hearing that, Egon just looked at Peter blankly. As far as he knew, there was no such thing as underwater properties, and most certainly not in Florida.

“It’s a scam, Egon. My dad is a con artist.”

“Oh.” Not knowing what else to say, Egon began to fidget with his glasses.

“I’ll bet your dad is some classy, well respected scientist who holds dinner parties for elite brainiacs,” Peter fantasized in an envious tone. “Is that why you’re stuck on campus instead of spending Christmas with your folks? They’re having some kind of formal event and you weren’t invited?”

“My father disowned me for studying parapsychology,” Egon replied without thinking. There was just something about Peter that made Egon feel like he could trust him with anything - even his most well guarded secrets.

“Your father _disowned_ you?” Peter’s expression darkened as he studied Egon’s face. “What kind of creep would disown someone like you?” Then, perhaps noticing how upset Egon was about the whole ordeal, Peter leaned over and pulled Egon into a hug. “Forget them, Egon. We can celebrate Christmas together - just you and me. Does your TV work? We can watch Rudolph or something and order a pizza.”

At first, Egon tensed up at the unfamiliar feeling of being embraced by another human being who was not his mother. But when he discovered that the feeling was not at all unpleasant, and that Peter was warm and the hug comforting, Egon relaxed in Peter’s arms. “I believe the TV is functional,” Egon said as he tried to think of a polite way of rejecting Peter’s suggestion of watching animated reindeer in the middle of the night.

“Great!” Peter announced as he hugged Egon tighter. “Then Rudolph it is! Do you have anything to drink?”

“I had hot cocoa... but someone contaminated it with a plastic toy.”

“Ease up and live a little, Egon. A little plastic never killed anyone.” Having said that, Peter hopped out of the bed, retrieved the hot cocoa after evicting Santa, and brought it back to for them to share.

They spent the rest of the night watching old Christmas cartoons and snacking on delivery pizza. And for most of the night, Peter kept at least one arm around Egon, holding him close.

“What’re you thinking about?” Peter murmured by Egon’s ear, bringing him back to the present. “You look a little lost.”

“Our first Christmas Eve together,” Egon replied quietly.

“Right,” Peter said softly as he began to stroke Egon’s hair. “That could’ve been a pretty rough night but we ended up salvaging most of it.” Then, leaning back, Peter pulled Egon down into the sleeping bag with him. “While you were off daydreaming, Winston and Ray fell asleep. I think that they went a bit overboard with the decorating and tired themselves out.” When Egon went as stiff as a board, unsure of how to react to lying down beside another human being, Peter kissed him reassuringly. “Just close your eyes and relax.”

Egon did as he was told and lay there nervously for a few minutes. Gradually, he began to feel a little more relaxed and slightly bolder. He snuggled up closer to Peter and removed his glasses to place them on top of one of the Christmas presents, where they wouldn’t get stepped on during the night. To say that he was content would have been an extreme understatement. Egon was so overcome with happiness that he couldn’t think of anything awkward to do or say that might ruin it.

After a short space of peaceful silence, Peter murmured, “Merry Christmas, Egon,” before drifting off to sleep.

“Merry Christmas, Peter,” Egon whispered back. He was quite certain that come Christmas morning, his relationship with the holiday season was going to take on a lot more meaning and positivity.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback = love, and inspires more stories. ╰(✿´⌣`✿)╯♡


End file.
